


pomegranate stains

by dwreed



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Human/Vampire Relationship, Lance is an actual Sleep Paralysis Demon, M/M, Multi, gratuitous vampire puns, misc vampire lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwreed/pseuds/dwreed
Summary: “So, I ask you for something and you grant it for a price, right?”“That’s generally how it works. Yeah.” The stranger finally looked up to leer at him. His eyes were a piercing and empty blue that shot chills down Keith’s spine even though spring was rapidly approaching.“What’s the price?” He dared to ask. A grin twisted onto the demon’s face.“I’d be willing to barter for you, babe.”
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	pomegranate stains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stover/gifts).



> happy gift exchange stover! i literally have no idea what this is but i hope you enjoy it anyways. (‘:

This was a bad idea. Keith knew searching for answers through other means was a bad idea because his friends had told him as much; Pidge had raised their eyebrows in skepticism, Hunk had tried to convince him not to go searching out of alarm, and Shiro had told him the whole thing gave his intuition a bad feeling. Maybe, if Keith were a more reasonable person, he would’ve just thrown in the towel and decided to call it quits. Put the nail in the coffin. Hang it up. But Keith was frustrated and tired. He just wanted some reason or sign, some divine cause that explained to him that the way he was had some kind of purpose. He didn’t need it… not really. 

But being the only non-magic bearer in his family for well over a century was kind of unfair and cruel. When he’d asked his mother about it - if it had anything to do with his father - she’d grimaced and said she didn’t really know. Keith didn’t believe her, but she’d only gotten angry when he’d pushed the issue. 

It just sucked, watching everyone go through their rites and coming of age ceremonies and he never got to attend as a magic user. He was always a bystander, unable to give any blessings or gifts. Not that Keith was any  _ good  _ at that, but being  _ able  _ to would’ve been better than doing nothing. 

Maybe if he would’ve been extra nice to his mother’s familiar he would’ve given Keith some answers himself, but at the end of the day he felt like that’d still get back to his mother. So here he was, performing a crossroads ritual like an idiot, wrapped in the black cloak his mother had given him for his twentieth birthday and skulking like a creature of darkness. 

If he’d been breathing he would’ve missed it; the ruffling of his cloak as the manifestation of someone - or something - shifted into existence. He turned, breath still stuck in his throat as he took in the sight of the demon in front of him. 

From every story Keith had ever read or heard he knew demons were beautiful. That was the point. In a world where being beautiful was more persuasive than being feared it made sense. But knowing that fact and seeing the demon in front of him were two very different things. Bronze, tanned skin glimmered in the light of the full moon, limbs sinewy and exposed in the sleeveless cloak he was wearing. Keith couldn’t see the strangers eyes, shadowed by his hood, but could see the sharp slope of his nose and the point of his jaw. His posture was relaxed, slouching even, as if bored. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as Keith stood quiet.

“Looking for answers, stranger?” 

“I guess so.” Keith was unsure of what he should and shouldn’t say, not wanting to be taken advantage of or screwed over by the trick of a tongue or a missed meaning. He probably should’ve researched more into this, but Keith had never been known to think before he acted and now he was already here. 

“You  _ guess _ so? There’s a reason you called me, wasn’t there?” 

Right. 

“So, I ask you for something and you grant it for a price, right?” 

“That’s generally how it works. Yeah.” The stranger finally looked up to leer at him. His eyes were a piercing and empty blue that shot chills down Keith’s spine even though spring was rapidly approaching. 

“What’s the price?” He dared to ask. A grin twisted onto the demon’s face. 

“I’d be willing to barter for you, babe.” It came out smooth and cool, and Keith had to take a deep breath to fight the blush threatening to take over his cheeks. “So what do you want?” The demon began to circle Keith, and Keith watched him warily, the blade he’d used to cut into his hand earlier gripped tight in his palm. He didn’t know if having it even mattered. He was sure it didn’t. “Most people want money or someone resurrected or even immortality. Are you afraid of death, Keith?” 

“No.” 

“I was.” The demon grinned, close and wide enough that Keith could see the sharp canine sparkling clean and white in the glittering moonlight. “What’ll it be? I’ll name my price. Though, I’m sure your little coven will be disappointed that your magic will be wasted with a deal.” 

Keith guessed it was in the order of things that this demon knew things about him, but he was getting one thing wrong. “I didn’t inherit any magic.” 

The demon snorted, giving a sarcastic laugh as if Keith had made a horrible joke. When Keith didn’t elaborate the demon’s perfectly manicured eyebrow went up in question, and then his smile twisted further. “I see.” His eyes were glinting and Keith could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Is that what you want, then?” Keith couldn’t seem to make himself answer, mouth glued shut and for all the world feeling like he was making a mistake. The other man hummed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cloak and turning to glance up at the moon in thought. “I’ll give you a hint; you already have magic.” He glanced over his shoulder at Keith. 

“So what do I do to… activate it, or whatever? Do you know how to do that?” He’d never once been told that he had magic - in fact, he’d been told he  _ didn’t  _ have any. That he’d been born that way. So either this demon was lying to him or someone else was. The amount of times his mom had dodged his questions and begged him not to ask anymore was enough to plant a seed of doubt in his mind. 

“Either you’re really stupid or I’m your last resort. I’m not giving you  _ advice  _ without a deal, if that’s what you’re asking for.” 

“But if there’s another way to-”

“Buh! No no  _ no _ no no, you don’t  _ call a crossroads demon  _ and then ask for advice without a contract. Who do you think I am? Ask a seer or fortune teller. I don’t  _ do that _ .” 

The only people Keith knew had already dodged all of his questions in a similar manner to his mother, otherwise stared at him in abject horror or complete confusion before shooing him away, like being near him was a whole bother. 

“So you give me power and… what do you want from me in exchange?” The demon was looking at the moon again. Keith was under the impression that it was thinking about something. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? 

“I can dispel your curse on one condition.” He turned on his heel towards Keith, expression suddenly serious. Again, Keith’s fight or flight response was kicking adrenaline into his veins. “You become my personal blood bag.” 

Keith felt like he might pass out. “What?” 

“You have a blood curse, so it makes sense the only thing that can dispel it is another thing that’s cursed, right?” Keith didn’t think that was how it worked but he didn’t know the first thing about deep blood magic and  _ especially  _ not anything about blood curses. The demon continued before Keith could even think of an intelligent reply; “I’ll get rid of your curse for blood bag servitude. You get rid of your blood curse, I get some blood. It’s a win-win, no?” The demon offered him a hand.

This sounded too easy. Keith tried to remember anything he might’ve read outside of the directions to even get this far and came up blank. Shiro had always told him his tunnel vision was going to get him killed some day and maybe that time had finally arrived. Despite his instincts telling him this was a bad idea, and the way his inner-Shiro was warning him away, he took the demon’s hand. 

It pulled him in for a searing kiss that somehow seemed to freeze Keith in his boots while simultaneously melting him on the spot. As the demon’s tongue caressed his he whimpered, not because it felt good but because it was  _ hot. Literally.  _ Heat bloomed from his mouth outwards, across the nerves in his face and down his throat, slow at first and then catching like fire on dry-brush. It felt like he was burning from the inside out, and the demon caught his weight as his knees gave out underneath him as the rush licked down his legs and then deep into his toes. His whole body felt like it was coming alive after falling asleep, pins and needles tingling through his nerves. 

And then, a rush of cold swept over him and he gasped as he was released, collapsing to his knees, gulping in breath. A new sensation was buzzing at the edges of his consciousness like a fly, omnipresent. 

“Good deal. I’ll be seeing you.” The demon gave him a wet grin, and Keith felt dizzy, everything around his vision was fuzzy and overexposed. 

With a flutter of his cloak, the demon was gone.

It’d been a bad idea, but Keith supposed he’d already known that. 

He’d somehow managed to make it home in a blind haze, curled up in his bed, and knocked out for two solid days. Pidge had been the one to wake him up, stepping into his room fearing he was dead and pausing in the doorway with their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. With a declaration that his room smelled vile they’d cracked the window open and told him to get the hell up. Keith didn’t notice it, but after another two days them and Hunk confronted him to ask if he’d  _ done the thing.  _

“I thought it’d just been because you were K.O.’d for two days straight but the smell is stuck to you. Do you have magic?” 

Keith had hardly been able to practice anything, feeling too aware of everything and on high alert. It was like he now had a sixth sense he’d been deprived of before and he was on sensory overload trying to get used to it. But he’d held a hand out to demonstrate and upon unleashing whatever weird feeling he’d been trying to practice in his bedroom Pidge had gripped his arm in a vice grip. Whatever they did to him cut the stream of magic off and he’d looked at them in confusion. They were sweating bullets, looking like a cornered animal as they stared at him.

“What-... what did you do to get that?” 

Keith hadn’t told either of them. 

It was probably for the best because Keith didn’t know how he was going to explain the whole personal blood bag thing. He’d been experiencing a particularly bad bout of sleep paralysis, woken out of one nightmare into another as he lay still in his bed, eyes peering all of the corners of his room as shadows began to crawl towards him. He kept trying to make himself slow his breathing but he couldn’t seem to gain control no matter how much he told himself that it was all a waking dream. A tall, looming figure appeared by his bedside out of the shadows. An ugly face peered down at him, half-melted off with bone exposed and muscle glinting. His breathing picked up, trying to force his limbs to move so he could fully wake, and then another face was in his vision, blue eyes staring down at him in puzzlement and confusion unbefitting of his nightmares. With a thoughtful look on his face, the demon Keith had met at the crossroads brushed a hand over his forehead and then the shadows were gone and the movement was back in his limbs. 

He sat up with a desperate inhale, backing himself into the wall in alarm. 

“Do you usually spell yourself in your sleep?” The demon turned away from him to glance around the room, far too casual for the panic subsiding in Keith’s chest. Spelling himself? 

“... T-that wasn’t you?” He managed. The demon rolled his eyes. 

“No. Though, to be honest that’s not a bad idea. The way your blood is rushing could be a benefit.” Right. He was here to suck Keith’s blood like some dark being from a gothic horror movie. Keith had to admit, if he had to have his blood sucked he’d much rather it be out of some fucked up romance movie than whatever hallucinations had been plaguing him in his half-sleep. 

“Right…” He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself, but he didn’t know how to even go about doing that. 

“Since this is a symbiotic agreement, I’ll let you pick where I bite you.” The demon turned to look at him from where he’d been gazing at a photograph, grin dashing and for all the world looking like something out of a film. Keith could feel his anxiety easing, tampered underneath the aura of his… companion? Vampire? Leech? 

“Do you have a name?” 

“No. Of  _ course _ not.” 

“You can cool it on the sarcasm.” 

“It’s Lance.” The air between them had an undercurrent of irritability, but was considerably more comfortable than when the demon had first arrived. 

“Okay… Lance.” Keith breathed, distinctly nervous as Lance came to sit at the edge of his bed. He was still drawn into the corner, curled up with the blanket over his knees. He could hear whatever Pidge had fallen asleep watching in the room next door now that he was more aware of his surroundings. “Wherever is easiest for you.” If this was going to be a  _ thing _ then Keith figured they could figure out their arrangement as they went along. 

Lance’s lips quirked with a smile, hitching himself onto the mattress and crawling over him. Keith lowered his knees, not able to look the demon in the face when his eyes raked over him to study him, gripping the sheets underneath him as Lance lowered his face over his neck and took a deep inhale. 

“You scared?” He teased. Keith bristled in annoyance, grimacing.

“Just do it.” 

The initial bite made him groan, and he had to force his mouth shut, hand finding purchase on Lance’s arm where it was cradling his head and gripping tight. It was just painful at first, and then a weird rush of euphoria pulsed through him as he was being drained of his blood, leaving him tingly and relaxed as Lance drank from him. Logically, he knew it was probably some kind of magic to make him an uncomplaining participant, and he was both disturbed and grateful for it. His nerves felt both hot and cold at the same time, rendering him overstimulated and stupid. He felt lightheaded and dizzy when Lance pulled away with a lick to his neck, feeling almost like he was waking up from another dream as he was set gently back onto his pillow. In curiosity, he raised his hand to his neck to feel it, but whatever wounds were there from Lance’s canines hardly left any blood behind. 

“You might wanna sleep that off.” Lance warned him, mouth bloodstained as he stood to his feet. Keith could only nod blearily in response, and then he blinked and Lance was gone. 

It was usually a month, give or take, between every time Keith saw Lance. It was as unobtrusive as deals could probably get, he thought, even if hiding the bite marks was a nuisance. Still, Keith avoided the hell out of his mother and the coven elders and he didn’t know how he was going to continue this way. If Pidge could sense his magic almost immediately then there was no doubt that others would as well, and Keith felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

“How’re you liking your new powers?” Lance asked him, lounging too casually for Keith’s liking in the beanbag at the corner of his bedroom. But he’d told Keith he was looking too pale (and admittedly, he was feeling more lightheaded than usual after being fed upon) and had flickered from the bedroom before returning with a Sprite and bowl filled with a broken open pomegranate from Keith’s kitchen. So Keith felt like he couldn’t complain. He idly picked at the seeds, fingers red as he chewed. 

“Fine.” 

“You get blood sucked for magic powers and all you can say about them is that they’re  _ fine _ ?” Lance raised an eyebrow at him, and Keith didn’t have the energy to have more heat in the discussion. 

“What am I going to do? Bullshit my way into making the elders believe I miraculously unlocked my affinity after twenty-four years without it?” 

“Stranger things have happened.” Lance picked at his fingernails, seeming unperturbed by this. It really didn’t have anything to do with him and his blase attitude was getting on Keith’s nerves. “Why can’t you tell them the truth?” 

“Demon deals are forbidden in my coven.” 

“Ah. So you’re a bad boy.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows at him playfully, and Keith rolled his eyes and picked up a handful of seeds to cover the smile threatening to overtake his face. 

“Shut up.” He griped, because he had nothing else to say. 

“You think you made a mistake?” 

“Undoubtedly.” Keith couldn’t ask for advice from anyone in his coven without giving himself away. It was hard enough to deal with Pidge and Hunk being involved even if they were trying to get the scoop for him. Hunk could only manage for so long before he gave up out of being given the creeps, because it turned out Keith getting his magic restored by a demon meant he possessed necromancy as his affinity. Or maybe that’d been his affinity all-along. Pidge was fascinated but in the clinical way Pidge was always interested; for building hypotheses and conclusions. Keith had always felt like an outcast but now it felt more like pressure - more like he’d done it to himself and not the other way around. 

The summer solstice marked when Shiro found him out. Keith had gone to the gathering because he’d already missed the one during spring and his mother was asking for him. He hadn’t lurked around her for long, opting for staying out of the crowds with his hood up and brooding in the best way he knew how. Shiro had found him to give him a large bottle of ale, rolling his eyes and dragging Keith’s hood from his head with a playful admonishment... 

Only Keith had been keeping his hood up to hide the bite marks on his neck, and he could see the moment Shiro’s expression shifted from recognition to confusion to horror. 

“Keith, what is going on?” Being demanded like that reminded Keith of days spent in Shiro’s living room when his mom was away on coven business, being reprimanded for getting into fights at school or ditching class altogether. 

“It’s nothing.” His voice wobbled because he was always horrible when it came to lying to Shiro. He’d been the only male authority figure Keith didn’t have a problem with. 

“That doesn’t look like nothing.” Shiro’s anger was laced with concern, and Keith drew his hood back up over his head and took a long swig from his ale, trying to avoid the question by simply not answering it. It was quiet between them, the laughter and music from the gathering a few yards away trickling through the quiet. Shiro sighed, resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder - and then abruptly pulled away with a hiss. Keith already knew he could feel the magic pouring out of him. “... Did you make a deal?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Like hell I don’t know what I’m talking about Keith - I can feel it on you.” Shiro dropped his voice as a couple women strolled casually passed them, oblivious to the severity of their conversation. They were hooked arm-in-arm, wreaths on their heads and giggling under the moonlight. Keith felt jealous of their joy. As it was, Keith didn’t know how to respond. 

“I’m leaving.” He announced, like that would make the situation better, shoving the bottle into Shiro’s chest. He turned on his heel and began strolling back to where he’d parked his bike, but Shiro was on his tail. 

“If you just explain to me what’s going on I-. Maybe I could help you. Please, Keith.” Keith’s heart ached, but he didn’t really want to get Shiro involved in the mess. It was already too much. He kicked up the stand on his bike and left. 

Lance had decided to stick around again. 

Keith was watching a vampire movie marathon on the television when he’d flickered into the room, and Keith had had to suppress the shiver coming over his bones after watching victim after victim being sucked dry. The summer had brought about a changeup in where Lance was biting him but Keith was glad it was over; having a demon’s mouth attached to his inner thigh was doing weird things to his psyche that he didn’t like, and since the end of October was rapidly approaching Keith could go back to hiding under hoodies and scarves. Lance had smiled wolfishly at him when Keith had expressed the need for change and said “am I getting you hot and bothered?” 

Keith had basically placed his neck in Lance’s mouth at that point just so he’d shut up. 

As it was, he was lounging back and watching the movie on the screen in bemusement. Keith idly chewed at his popcorn, feeling sluggish. He kept peeking at the microwave clock to make sure Pidge wasn’t coming home from work soon. 

“So… you were human, right?” Keith asked once a commercial break started. Lance raised an eyebrow at him. 

“When did I ever say that?” 

“You said you were afraid of dying.” 

Lance was quiet for a moment, and he grabbed a kernel of popcorn from Keith’s bowl as if he needed it. “I was human, yeah.” Keith realized belatedly that this was probably a personal question, but  _ really.  _ Lance had literally been consuming him for upwards of eight months and if he was going to hang around afterwards, the least he could do was entertain conversation. “I was turned in 1957.” 

Keith whistled, unsure if he was disturbed or impressed. “Oh shit.” He breathed. Lance grabbed another handful of buttery popcorn, licking some into his mouth. When he’d arrived he’d looked ashen and pale, but the color had since returned to his face. 

“Yeah. My sire had a soft spot for my good looks, I guess.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and Keith flushed and looked back to the TV. 

“How old were you?” 

“Twenty-six.” Lance shrugged. It wasn’t often that he gave short answers. Maybe it just wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Keith decided to have mercy and change the subject. 

“Do these movies bother you?” He nodded to the screen, where one of the vampires was playing the piano solemnly. Lance hummed. 

“Nah. They’re interesting. It’s like people  _ almost  _ get it right.” His head tilted to the side, foot waving precariously where it was crossed over his knee. 

“What parts are right?” 

“The parts where we’re super sexy.” Lance threw a kernel into his mouth. For fear of saying something he wasn’t sure he meant, Keith didn’t say anything in reply. They sat there and watched in silence for so long that they could hear Pidge stick their key into the lock. Self-consciously, Keith sunk further into the couch as if he could disappear into it as Pidge locked the door behind themselves. 

“Hey.” They greeted casually, removing their shoes and reaching a hand into their fluffy hair to scratch their head. Keith glanced over to Lance - but he was gone like he’d never shown up in the first place. He squashed the way his gut wrenched in his stomach, standing up to make more popcorn. 

“How was work?” 

“Ass.” Pidge came up next to him to root around the refrigerator, and Keith stepped aside as he shoved a bag into the microwave. He could feel the air go uncomfortable and cold and turned to look at them, eyebrow raised, when he noticed Pidge’s eyes glued to his neck. He slapped a hand over where he was suddenly conscious of the light stinging sensation Lance had left, dragging his hood up over his head. The popcorn in the microwave picked up speed. Keith’s anxiety felt like it was mounting. “Did you get bitten by a demon?” 

Keith wanted to say he’d just been messing around, that he’d been watching vampire movies and he’d gotten bored and inspired, but instead he said “Uh…” 

The microwave beeped. The smell of semi-burnt popcorn was filling their apartment. 

“Are you okay, Keith?” 

“What kind of question is that?” 

“A fucking reasonable one.” The refrigerator finally began to chime in warning, and Pidge grabbed a can of green tea before shutting the door, staring at him hard. “Is it your magic? We should put wards up if you’re attracting them. I know necromancy is a difficult affinity to have…” 

Keith wasn’t liking the concern he was getting. First it was Shiro, now Pidge. He expected everyone to be angry, he expected to argue and have reason to flee without explaining but instead everyone was just worried. He felt horrible. 

“We can’t… use wards.” The microwave beeped again in the quiet. 

“You’ll still be able to get into our place. You don’t have to-“ 

“I have a deal so… we can’t use wards.” Or rather, Keith wasn’t sure if wards would even work. And if they did, where was Lance going to ambush him? At work? On his commute? When he went to get the mail? 

Pidge looked like they were chewing on a thought, eyebrows drawn together. Keith could tell they were upset, but he’d never been good with words. 

“How long?” 

“What?” 

“This deal. How long does it last?” 

Truthfully, Keith didn’t know. There had been no time conditions to their arrangement. “Until I die, I guess.” Pidge’s face morphed through multiple expressions before it landed on something akin to confusion and revulsion. 

“Which is  _ when? _ ” They pressed. Keith groaned, swiping the popcorn from the microwave and going back to where he’d been sitting on the couch. 

“Whenever my mom finds out, probably.” She’d kill him, then revive him just so she could kill him again for being so reckless. The sound of Pidge’s can opening broke their tense silence, and they heaved a deep sigh. 

“I literally don’t know how you could do something so stupid.” 

“That’s why I usually leave the thinking to you.” 

Pidge huffed, clearly perturbed. “I can’t think for you if you don’t talk to me.” 

“Sorry…” Keith meant it, as much as he knew how to be sincere about apologies. Pidge walked past him towards their room. 

“We’ll talk about this later when I’m not mad at you. I’m putting wards on my door and window.” 

“Right.” 

Lance could feel it the next time he dropped by in early December, face distorted as he glanced around in subtle irritation. Keith had to tell him Pidge had found out and put wards on their room. Lance had rolled his eyes, annoyed. His trips became shorter and shorter. Keith didn’t know why he was doing so much to accommodate the demon that was literally bleeding him dry but he moved his bed away from the wall he shared with Pidge, having to rearrange his desk and television stand. 

The fourth and last time Lance tried to skip out quickly Keith rushed to catch his hand, floundering like a fish out of water when the other raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What is it?” 

Keith had never been good at words - it had just passed a year and he’d taken every chance he could to avoid his mother just so he could continue the illusion that he hadn’t broken any rules. Shiro and Pidge were sworn to secrecy and Keith hadn’t even told them the whole story, and if Hunk knew he never brought it up because Keith’s necromancy affinity made him nauseous. Lance was the only thing-... the only person, who understood what was going on. He was the only being dead or alive that knew the entirety of his dirty secret. It’d been Keith’s choice, true, but Lance was an actively guilty party in this. 

“... Nothing.” He released Lance’s hand, sitting back on the bed. Lance stared at him for a long moment, eyes searching his face before directing them at the floor. 

“Alright.” And then he left. 

Keith knew, logically, that he couldn’t stay away from his mom forever. Unless he moved to another continent she was going to corner him eventually, no matter how many times he dodged any plans she tried to make with him. It was early June when she showed up at his and Pidge’s doorstep, expression looking severe in the only way a mom’s face would look after their child avoided them for months on end. She raised a sculpted brow at the hoodie he was wearing over his head before stepping passed him into the apartment, pausing in the entryway. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, Keith.” 

“No I haven’t.” 

“You’re a bad liar.” She slipped her shoes off, shifting like she was uncomfortable and she couldn’t figure out why. “Did you have someone over?” 

“No.” He stepped further into the apartment, going into the kitchen and digging in the fridge. “Want something to drink?” When she didn’t reply he knew he was screwed over, but he still grabbed two cans anyway, holding one out to her. She grabbed it before setting it on the counter, clearly not about to pretend like she hadn’t caught on. 

“What did you do, Keith?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Like  _ hell,  _ Keith.  _ What  _ did you do?” His mom was the only person that could command him of answers and he’d feel horrible instead of belligerent. This was why he’d avoided her for so long - she’d felt him magicless his whole entire life and now his affinity was permeating the whole living space. 

“I just fixed what was wrong with me.” 

“There was nothing  _ wrong  _ with you to fix.” She sounded equal parts exasperated and hurt. 

“I had a blood curse.” 

She didn’t have a rebuttal this time, and Keith almost felt bad that he’d brought it up. But she’d denied time and time again that anything was wrong with him, that he’d only been born the way he was and that was it. Keith still didn’t know the specifics. He wanted answers, but ambushing his mom probably wasn’t the way to do it. It was too late for that, he supposed. 

“Who told you that?” 

“Why does it matter?  _ You  _ never told me. And you never told me why or how.” He was beginning to feel angry, but she looked angry enough to match. 

“Would it have made you feel better?” She snapped. 

“It doesn’t matter now. I had to deal with hearing it from someone else because you decided avoiding the problem was the way to go about it.” He squeezed his fists tight as he tried to rein his emotions back into the pit of his stomach, where he usually kept them. 

“So you avoided me for months to what? Prove a point?” She crossed her arms over her chest, and Keith huffed out the breath he’d been holding in. “You still haven’t told me what happened.” 

“I don’t know how to talk to you.” Keith knew it would hurt her feelings but it was the truth. His mom looked stung, but he didn’t know how to spare her feelings anymore. They stood in the kitchen in silence - the can in Keith’s hand was beginning to go warm but he still hadn’t opened it. It seemed inappropriate considering their argument. 

“Your father and I were…” She started, and then paused for a moment. “We had trouble conceiving. He didn’t tell me, but your dad made a deal. And it came with conditions.” Her eyes were glued to her feet, looking haunted. “Usually, even if a baby has one parent that doesn’t have an affinity they’ll still inherit the magic from the parent that does. But not you.” It hadn’t been a complete lie then - just a lie by omission, which still didn’t feel good. Keith didn’t know if he was worth all of that. His throat felt thick. “He was given five years, and then the hounds went to complete the demon’s deal. You were too young to remember any of that.” 

Keith leaned against the counter, pressing a hand to his forehead as if it would ease the headache he could feel trying to burst behind his eyelids. What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to admit to her that he’d made a deal himself?

“I hardly remember him at all.” 

“He was excommunicated. He left before your fifth birthday.” 

The tears started, and Keith wasn’t sure if it was because of the oncoming migraine or because of their conversation. Again, they were quiet for a while. He swallowed, trying to make himself bite the bullet and say it. 

“I made a deal.” Even in the tense quiet it was barely audible. His mom took a deep inhale, but otherwise said nothing. Keith didn’t know what else to say. Clearly, his mom didn’t know what to say either. She was a member of the counsel, which meant she couldn’t keep the information to herself, like Pidge or Shiro. For a second it seemed like she was going to say something, but then she closed her mouth, speechless. “I have to go to work.” He didn’t, but he just wanted to get out of the situation. He put the cans back into the refrigerator and slipped his shoes onto his feet, making a beeline for the door. 

“Keith wait-” 

He didn’t. 

When the whole ordeal had started, Keith had hoped his mom would keep the deal under wraps. He’d hoped she would keep it to herself, maybe tell him he should move of his own accord and stay low and say nothing. But knowing what he knew now there was no way she could keep it to herself. It was impossible to ask that of her because she’d lost her husband already and now she was going to lose him. 

He’d made his way to Hunk’s place, greeting his burly father with the same timid energy he usually did. He was a nice man, he was just gigantic, much like his son - who had been looking for an excuse to move out but hadn’t found one yet. 

“I’m leaving. Do you want to take over my lease?” He got straight to the point. Hunk stared at him with wide eyes, closing his bedroom door behind Keith and looking at him like he’d grown a second head. 

“You’re leaving? Hold on hold on, what? Where? Why? Is this about the demon thing because me and Pidge won’t tell anyone-“ 

“I know. But my mom found out.” 

Hunk started to turn green. “Do you really think she’ll tell on you to the council?” 

Keith sighed, plopping into the rolling chair at Hunk’s desk and kicking his feet up. “I don’t want to put her in the position to pick.” 

Hunk was getting teary-eyed and Keith huffed in put-upon irritation. As much as they avoided each other, they’d still grown up together and understood each other pretty easily. But Keith only scoffed, avoiding looking Hunk in the face because he was still feeling raw and the last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of his friends. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, Keith.” Hunk placed a warm hand on his shoulder, and Keith felt the tension in his shoulders relax. He didn’t realize how strung up he’d been. 

“I did it to myself.” They both mulled over their thoughts. 

“Wherever you end up you’ll be okay. And if you’re not, you can always call us! We’re not going to cut you off completely.”

“You’re supposed to.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Hunk grinned, seeming confident. He wasn’t confident very often, so Keith allowed himself to smile back, placing a hand on his friend’s and squeezing. 

“Thanks.” He didn’t feel deserving of the loyalty but Keith wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt deserving of anything, so he decided to accept it. 

Okay, so Keith didn’t have anywhere to go. 

That was fine. 

Riding off into the sunset in the desert was probably not the best idea he’d ever have, but in his defense good ideas were in short supply lately. Keith was good at short-term impulsiveness, not long-term planning, so that was why he’d pulled over at a rest stop somewhere in Arizona to sleep, popping a squat on a picnic table because he’d insisted on getting a bike instead of a car. There was a storm on the horizon, and Keith could feel the chill settling in the air. It was his own fault for leaving during monsoon season, but nature didn’t have to be quite that cruel, he thought. Still, he’d been so exhausted that he slept the night through anyway, duffel bag under his head as a pillow and wearing two hoodies. The storm started the next day, a downpour on Keith’s spirit and his sanity - all the faux leather in the world wasn’t going to save him from the rain on his reluctant parade as he rode aimlessly. 

It was two days worth of being stranded at a Motel 6 later, the storm flooding roads and making riding his bike a menace. Keith had sat in bed for the first day shivering with a fever and scaring the person working at the Subway next door when ordering soup. He was at the height of his fever-induced delirium when he realized he could summon Lance. Digging through his bag and drawing blood was probably not the best thing to do while in pain and shivering but he did it regardless. 

The cold of the rain felt horrible, even if there were crossroads right outside. He was slumped over in the dirt, hair dripping water down his neck and over his face as he tried to get a grip on the way the world was bending and warping beneath him. 

“Keith? What the fuck?” Lance was at his side with confusion written all over his features. He hoisted Keith up from under his armpits, placing a hand over his eyes and glancing around. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I need somewhere to go.” Keith knew he was dead weight but couldn’t bring himself to get his feet properly underneath him. Lance huffed, digging through his pockets until he found the hotel key that was sitting inside. 

“What were you gonna do if it wasn’t me that came here?” He sounded halfway between annoyed and confused. Keith hadn’t thought about that, so he said so. “Good grief. What room are you?” 

“300.” 

Lance carried his weight back to the hotel room, depositing him at the stiff desk chair with a huff of irritation. He went to the bathroom and turned the shower on. Between the haziness, Keith began to feel guilty. Lance started to peel his layers off of him, grimacing. 

“You don’t have to do all this.” He muttered, raising his arms so Lance could pry his wet shirt from his torso. Lance rolled his eyes. 

“Then what did you need me here for?” 

“I-...” 

“Hm?” 

Keith stayed quiet as Lance peeled him from the chair, helping him into the shower. He shivered once he was under the spray, even though he could see the gauge was set to warm. It felt horrible, but he stayed there, body still sweating. After a moment he peeked out from the curtains - Lance was posted against the sink, reading a book that Keith had left out. He hummed in question. 

“Thanks.” Keith forced out, stepping back into the spray. 

“You’re the one that called me. But no problem.” 

Keith hesitated for a long, dragging moment. “My mom told me what happened.” 

“Oh yeah?” It’d felt like a long time since Keith had heard Lance’s lilting amusement. It was hard to remind himself that everything about him was by design. 

“Yeah. My dad made a deal because they were having problems conceiving.”

“Well, shit.” Just like that the amusement was gone, but Keith still liked his voice. Keith shut his eyes against the water. “Guess it runs in the family.” Lance still joked, though. 

Keith snorted, feeling a little more sober. 

“Guess so.” He agreed. Keith hadn’t taken much time to think of the implications of that; he’d allowed himself maybe five minutes then had stubbornly told himself to get over it and get moving. His whole body felt heavy with the weight. 

“They kicked you out.” 

“No. They would’ve, though.” Keith sighed, turning the tap off and reaching for his towel. He sluggishly dried himself as much as he could muster, wrapping it around his waist and drawing the curtain open. Lance was watching him. When Keith almost ate shit trying to step out of the tub Lance helped him out, muttering about being a babysitter. But Keith knew if Lance didn’t want to be here he wouldn’t be. He’d already proven that. 

“Were you hoping to stay with me, then?” Lance questioned, taking a seat on the edge of Keith’s bed and keeping his eyes trained on the television as Keith got dressed. He fell back onto the mattress and rooted his hands into his hair, shutting his eyes. 

“I guess so?” 

“What if I lived in Hell, huh?” 

Keith groaned, not moving at all. “You’re a corporeal being. You have to live  _ somewhere. _ ” 

“You didn’t negotiate our terms at all, I don’t think you know anything.” 

“Am I right or wrong?” Keith opened his eyes to see Lance pursing his lips. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you anyways if I lived under your roof?” 

“In theory.” Lance allowed. Keith sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and shaking his head. 

“Forget it.” He curled up on top of the covers, turning to the wall and willing himself to go to sleep. There was no indication that Lance had left, but he’d disappeared under less noticeable conditions before. Really, Keith didn’t know why he’d bothered to ask. Fraternizing with Lance was what had gotten him into this predicament in the first place. 

He passed out - he didn’t know for how long because he hadn’t known what time it’d been when he’d dazedly wandered outside to summon Lance in the first place. He could vaguely hear his name, pushing through his sleep, until something cold on his forehead woke him up. Everything ached, but especially his head. 

“Do you have medicine?” Lance asked. Keith was surprised he was still there. He moaned, shaking his head and shivering, back in a cold sweat. He forced his eyes open, wet and sticky with tears he’d been shedding in his sleep. The room was dark save for the television playing, the subtitles on and playing while muted. Lance looked like a particularly dark creature, aura permeating the space as his lanky limbs hung over Keith, only a shadow. He clicked his tongue, and Keith could hardly make out the way he brought his wrist to his lips to bite down. 

“Here.” He offered. Keith stared at him in shock and confusion. “You’ll feel better. I promise.” 

After a moment he took the gamble, letting Lance feed him his blood and squeezing his eyes shut to keep out the mental image. It didn’t taste bad; it tasted like every time he got a baby tooth knocked out when fighting as a kid, or every time he licked a split lip or a broken open knuckle. But it tasted sweet, too. He felt lulled and sedated, like he’d been drugged, pliant when Lance pulled away and struggled to get him off the bed again and back into the shower. He felt a different kind of hazy this time, less loopy with a fever and more drunk. 

“Lance?” There was no reply this time, and Keith washed all of the cold sweat off of him and climbed out of the shower. Lance was returning with linen in his arms, blinking owlishly. 

“Out already?” Keith followed him back into the room, where Lance was replacing the sheets. Now that he was in less of a daze he could see that they’d been sweat-soaked. He hesitantly got dressed again, this time climbing under the covers. Lance took the time to tuck him in, and Keith flushed so hot he thought his fever might be making a vehement return. “Go back to sleep. You need it.” 

Keith shut his eyes, hardly thinking anything of it. He was out like a light. 

Lance had still been there when Keith woke up. He was plastered at the end of the bed watching TV and Keith would’ve expected him to look exhausted if their circumstances were any different. As it was, he hadn’t expected Lance to be there, or to feel one hundred percent functional. Even when he’d been feeling less awful than he had the day previous it took him about a week to feel better, but he felt nothing at all. Right as rain. 

It was still pouring outside. Keith could hear it pelting against the window as he packed his bag per Lance’s demand. 

“I have things to do, you know.” He crossed his arms over his chest and Keith tried to rein in his annoyance when he wasn’t even being told what was going on. “Hang on to me.” 

In spite of his reservations, Keith did so. And then he blinked and the walls of his hotel room were gone and it was replaced by the draping vines of a brick wall. Keith didn’t even have time to look around before an overwhelming feeling of nausea overtook him and he had to lean over a sprawling yard plant to yack, vision swimming and body feeling not-quite-right. Lance rubbed his back, as if it would help. It only did slightly. There was the sound of bustling chatter on the other side of the wall, the sound of swing music echoing through the courtyard they were in, and it was all feeling like too much at the same time. His senses felt like they were going haywire. . 

“Oh, you’re back!” A voice cut through the noise, and Keith had the grace to wipe his mouth before turning to follow Lance’s gaze to where a pair of women were lounging at an outdoor table. Lance left his side and Keith took the chance to look around; they were in a long yard behind a big, three story house - the exterior white and exposed brick. Already he could see a balcony on the second floor, and he gripped the strap of his duffel bag, feeling intensely out of place. His instincts were hating this with his entire being and Keith couldn’t help the way his hair was standing on end. He felt more than saw or heard someone enter his personal space, turning around to come face to face with a man with tanned skin and long features. When he smiled Keith could see his canines, stormy irises taking Keith in with something predatory that was making Keith question his decision-making for the thousandth time. 

“Looks like you brought a snack.” 

“Nuh-uh. Off limits.” Lance was between them immediately, and Keith was trying hard not to think too hard about the implications of that. 

“Lotor,  _ really.  _ That’s no way to treat a guest. I’ll uninvite you.” One of the women was on her feet, pale hair and blue eyes shimmering under the warm lighting of the yard lights. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Keith, I’m Allura.” She smiled warmly at him, holding out a hand. When Lance seemed much more at ease with her than the other demon in their presence, Keith willingly shook it. It was cold but soft. “And this is Romelle.” The blonde woman that had been sitting with her didn’t stand, but waved at him in a gesture of friendliness, which he returned. “Lance told us you need somewhere to stay and we have an extra bedroom, so you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like! There’s one other that lives with us - Coran - but he’s away on business. I’m sure you’ll get along, though. Would you like a tour?” She offered but she was already walking towards the back door of the house, waving him along. Keith took a glance back at Lance, who was preoccupied, and guessed this probably meant it was fine. If he was going to live with these demons - these people? - he was going to have to get used to being alone with them. Allura seemed kind enough. 

The house was humongous and Keith had a feeling he was probably going to get lost his first few times trying to navigate. For beings that didn’t necessarily need amenities the place was fairly comfortable - there were no rumored coffins, no dungeons or cells, all of the bathrooms and bedrooms were furnished, and there was a laundry room in a nook Keith already knew he wouldn’t remember how to get to. 

“We like to rent the place out during Mardi Gras so things need to be aesthetically pleasing.” Allura told him. She also told him Mardi Gras was a great time of the year to feed because everyone was drunk off of their asses and not remembering anything was a usual occurrence. He tried hard not to think too much into it. 

“When did you meet Lance?” He asked as they climbed down the steps from the attic. As interesting as the interior design was, he was a little more interested in other things at the moment. Allura hummed and tilted her head to the side, seeming thoughtful. 

“Hm… in the 50’s? I sired him. He was about to die and I was about to finish him off, honestly. But then he asked me if it hurt when I’d fallen from heaven and I laughed so hard at the irony I decided to keep him.” She sounded fond, if not mildly annoyed, and Keith understood the feeling. Lance had that effect on him, too.

The room Allura introduced to him as his own was covered in the most windows and had access to the balcony. Keith couldn’t make himself mind, especially when he had a view of the French Quarter down below him. He guessed when you were an immortal being you could afford prime real estate, but  _ Jesus Christ.  _ He hadn’t been expecting this when he’d asked if Lance had somewhere he could stay. Well, Keith wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really, but it wasn’t this. 

Lance and Romelle took him grocery shopping and that had been something Keith hadn’t paused to think about. In fact, he’d been running on zero hours of sleep since he’d gotten there, feeling overwhelmed, and the only reason he ever ate was because Lance and Romelle seemed excited about having an excuse to learn how to cook. To be fair, it was all pretty good and if Keith weren’t so wound up it probably would’ve put him to sleep. As it was, it just made him miss Hunk and Pidge. He stubbornly didn’t think about it so much that he stayed awake so he wouldn’t dream about them. 

A week into his stay with them, Lance wandered into his room via the balcony, and Keith looked up from where he was buried in a necromancy tome Allura had dug up for him. 

“Mind if I ask you a favor?” He leaned against the paned glass, and Keith shrugged, marking his page and shutting his book. Even if he did mind, he felt a little indebted. 

“What’s up?” He asked. Lance seemed to study him, not moving from his spot with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He briefly wondered if demons got changed before doing soul-stealing business because Lance was always incredibly casual around the house. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” Lance questioned him, an eyebrow raised. Keith mirrored his expression. 

“That’s your favor?” 

“I’m just  _ concerned _ , Keith.” He sounded more mocking than concerned. 

“Take your concern and suck on it.”

Lance finally entered the room, taking a seat next to him and stealing the book from his lap. He was idling. Keith realized he did this when trying to make Keith warm up to him before feeding on him. Keith supposed he appreciated the sentiment, but really he’d rather get it over with. 

“I heard Lotor call me a fangbanger.” He stated conversationally. Lance grimaced something fierce, even though Keith was trying to chew back a laugh. 

“He shouldn’t call you that.” He sounded strangely serious. 

“I thought it was kind of funny.” Keith admitted. 

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not something you say when you’re being nice to someone.” Lance was clearly heated, and Keith was feeling soft. He really expected his  _ demon buddies  _ to be nice to him? That was a notion that was hilarious to Keith, but he guessed that Allura and Romelle were nice enough. Unlike hell-dwellers, blood-suckers were human once. 

“All the more reason to laugh at him, then.” Keith decided, nudging Lance in the ribs. He swayed, flipping through the pages of Keith’s book before placing it back in his lap. 

“Maybe you’re right.” He smiled, genuine, and Keith could feel himself lose his breath. He had to look away to compose himself. 

“Need fuel? I heard I make a pretty good snack.” Keith tried to keep the jokes going, to alleviate the tension between them. It wasn’t bad, but it was charged with something Keith didn’t want to name. Lance’s laugh wasn’t really helping. 

“I think I’m a bad influence on you.” 

“You’re still worse.” 

“Oh, duh. You can’t take that title from me.” Lance grinned. Keith rolled his eyes, even though he’d started it. The open balcony was letting the humid air into the room and he used the excuse to tug his hoodie off, throwing it to the side. 

Keith didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sensation of having his blood sucked from his body. No matter how much he mentally and emotionally prepared himself it always surprised him. It was almost like Hunk’s weed brownies when he got the cannabis ratio wrong and it made them all high as a kite, except more tingly and more loopy. In this particular instance, he felt similarly heavy and leaden down, eyelids heavy, staring up at Lance’s face as he pulled away. Feeling stupid, or brave maybe, he reached up to plant a hand on Lance’s face. His expression went unreadable, and Keith watched him sit back when there was a knock and the door to his room was pushed open. 

“Here, Lance.” It was Allura, setting a tray on his mattress before leaving again without another word. Lance gingerly tugged him into a sitting position, taking the tray and placing it on his lap. 

“You remembered I like pomegranates.” Keith’s fingers were already in the bowl. He tried not to be sad; Pidge thought they were stupidly tedious but had always eaten them if Keith took the seeds out for them. 

“It has good iron content.” Lance shrugged, cracking open the can of Sprite. Keith almost felt like a blood donor. He guessed that was accurate enough. He also felt super exhausted, eyelids trying to close and body having to work hard to stay upright. 

“Did you do this on purpose?” He asked around a mouthful of seeds. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Yeah, that was way more innocent than Keith had ever heard him, which was  _ wrong.  _ This whole thing was a conspiracy to make him sleep. 

It worked, too. Keith slept harder than he had in what felt like years, coming out of it feeling dehydrated and groggy. He managed to make his way down to the kitchen, hood pulled over his head as he rummaged through the refrigerator. 

“Keith! You’re awake!” Allura peeked in from where she’d been watching television with the curtains pulled closed. Keith muttered a greeting, grabbing the carton of eggs from the depths. It was weird to have so many people in a house and be the only one utilizing the refrigerator. 

(“We can eat but it doesn’t do anything,” is what Lance had said when he’d asked.) 

“Can I cook for you?” She asked, eyes glittering like she was going to take time convincing him even if he said no. 

“Sure.” His laziness got the best of him, but she seemed excited at the prospect of having something to do, so Keith wasn’t going to complain. He watched as she chopped vegetables for him - tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, mushrooms. 

“You and Lance seem close.” She commented. This was Keith’s least favorite line of questioning; he would much rather pry into Allura’s backstory of how she travelled from the United Kingdom, to Australia, to Cuba, and then some as she tried to find somewhere to call home. When someone lived for so long they saw a lot of history, and Keith guessed having the levity of asking someone about their personal relationships was probably a nice change. 

“So do you.” Keith still dodged the question though, apathetic as Allura turned her annoyed gaze on him. 

“It’s been decades so I sure hope so.” She still replied. “Do you think you’ll want to turn?” 

Keith hadn’t thought about it. Being turned meant he couldn’t fulfill his end of the deal - indefinite as it was. He also wasn’t sure of how worth it he found it to live almost-forever. To have that capability. What would he even do? Sometimes he was woken up in the middle of the night by Lance playing the piano - him and Coran both worked for the same orchestra and Keith imagined if he didn’t sleep he’d probably want to learn an instrument as well. Maybe volunteer somewhere out of boredom. 

“I haven’t thought that far.” He admitted. The thing about life was that there was limited time. What were you supposed to do when you held no sense of urgency? The smell of eggs frying in the pan was making his mouth water; maybe he couldn’t give up food, after all. 

“We’d love to have you.” Allura smiled at him, all warmth. Keith didn’t know how he felt to have the option open. “When I met Romelle, I knew I wanted to spend eternity with her, but it’s not an easy thing to ask. Or a fair thing to ask. But just know we’d welcome you here if you were to make that decision.” He was feeling dizzy just at the prospect of considering it. 

“R-right… thanks, Allura.” He wasn’t sure of her point, and she was piling a plate for him and handing it over to him so he was too distracted to ask. 

It was late August when Lance dragged Keith out of the house and into the streets so that he’d stop his depression train. To be fair, Keith was still on it, he was just stopped at a beignet and daiquiri pit stop and would resume shortly. It was raining but sunny. Lance insisted on taking him to the best witch in the French Quarter to get him a spot working at her shop so he’d actually leave the house instead of hide inside and isolate himself. The modes of magic were incredibly different than where he’d grown up but he supposed he’d hardly learned anything in the first place. Taking a look at other practices wasn’t going to hinder him. In the end he’d given in. 

Lance was holding a parasol over them as Keith dug his sticky fingers into the bag of beignets. He offered one to Lance, who leaned down to take a bite straight from his fingers, humming in satisfaction as he chewed. 

“Warm.” He said with his mouth full. Keith took a moment to acknowledge that he felt like he was in an alternate universe. “Want me to hold those so you can drink?” Lance grabbed the bag from him, freeing him of juggling his cup and his food. Not that Keith minded, but it was still nice. It felt nice to feel normal for once, like the life he was living meant something and had some semblance of direction, even if it was small. 

The sound of fireworks echoed across the sky to bring in the new year, but Keith could hardly hear them. He was staring up at the sheet music sitting on the stand of the grand piano in the living room, Lance sitting at his side and playing the treble clef. Keith wasn’t  _ great _ , but a lot better than when he started. Lance was an infuriating teacher so maybe Keith just wanted to show him up. It wasn’t working yet but to be fair Lance had a pretty big head start. 

“What do you wanna learn next?” 

“You’re the expert, not me.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, grunting and swinging a leg over the bench so he was straddling it and facing Keith. 

“There’s a part I keep messing up on.” Keith flipped the pages, huffing out a breath as he tried to fish for where it was within the sheet music. 

“Yeah, I know.” The corner of Lance’s mouth quirked upward. Keith didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or kick him - he went with the latter. 

“And you didn’t say anything?” 

“You’ll practice when you get tired of  _ sucking _ .” 

“Bite me.”

“Been there, done that.” Lance nudged him, and Keith could feel heat filling his cheeks. It was true, though. 

“Happy New Year!!” Allura and Romelle’s shouts travelled up the staircase, the sound of poppers going off and the smell of Coran cooking in the kitchen for an event him and Lance had the next day. Keith wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, swallowing thickly and playing a single note on the keyboard. 

“Happy New Year, Keith.” 

When he glanced at Lance he was looking at him, the same soft thing on his face that Keith had been denying for  _ months _ . A wobbly smile managed its way onto his face, and he placed a hesitant hand on Lance’s knee, pushing him lightly. He left his hand there. Lance didn’t seem to mind. 

“What’s your resolution?” Keith asked, trying to contain the way his stomach flipped. Lance pursed his lips in thought. 

“I haven’t thought about it. I think I gave up on all that.” He answered after a moment of deliberating, shrugging his shoulders. One of his hands went to touch Keith’s. “What about you?” He asked. Keith hadn’t thought of one either, and it was hard to even come up with one since Lance’s thumb was sweeping over the back of his hand like every weird dream Keith had had since this whole thing started. 

“I-...” His eyes went down to Lance’s lips, trying to cover it by glancing down at their hands, distracted and nervous. Was he crazy? No, he knew the answer to that. Keith’s breath felt like it was punched out of his lungs as Lance used his index finger to tilt his chin up, eyes searching Keith’s face as he closed the space between them. He shut his eyes in anticipation as their lips brushed, a ghost of a kiss between them, before Keith decided to just go for it. What was the worst thing that could happen? 

It wasn’t like the first time. There was no spell burning down his throat and in his veins, there was no ice cold chill like a rush of a waterfall. But it did still feel like relief. It felt like the last Lego piece put into its set, or the final puzzle piece, or the lightbulb clicking on. Whatever Keith had been made for was here. He jumped away as a loud pop reverberated through the space, Romelle and Allura finally crashing their party with a bottle of champagne fizzing dangerously fast. 

“Get glasses! Get glasses!” Romelle bounded over to the piano and poured champagne straight into Lance’s mouth. Keith had to place a hand over his mouth to snort, biting away a laugh as it spilled all over him. 

“Hey! Don’t do that if you have weak aim!” Lance only sounded mildly annoyed as Allura rushed back into the room with four flutes. 

“To the new year!” She cheered, pouring each of them a glass. It was silly, in Keith’s opinion, but when you could hear the excitement of everyone outside it was pretty infectious to feel happiness and relief. 

“Cheers!” They clinked their glasses together, all four of them downing the flutes in one go. Coran finally joined them with his own glass, insisting on being part of the next cheers to the new year as he turned up the aria he’d been blasting in the other room. They all cheered again and downed their drinks, and Keith barely had a moment to swallow before Lance was wrapping an arm around him and kissing him again, dipping him over the piano bench so far that Keith flailed in fear, only able to smile into Lance’s mouth as he was kissed like their lives depended on it. He could hear Allura and Romelle settling a bet between them and  _ really?  _ Keith wanted to hate them but he couldn’t. 

Allura’s question chimed in his head like a bell. Could he make himself want this life for forever? Forever was a long time. But even though life was incredibly short it was also incredibly long - Keith guessed for now this feeling of being home, of Lance looking at him the same way he looked up at the rain on a sunny day, it was all enough for him as long as he could have it. Forever or not. 


End file.
